


you love me. why?

by carminnat



Category: Uncharted (Video Games), Uncharted 4 - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Long-Term Relationship(s), Teen Romance, teen characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:11:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carminnat/pseuds/carminnat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One question asked in the same light both then and now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you love me. why?

**1989**

The night was young. Sam’s breathing was steady and his arms were firm around you.

Soon, you held yourself up on top of him with an arm propped up next to his head. He stared up at you curiously, but you said nothing. 

You took his returned silence, granted that it was so rare that he had nothing to say. You rested your hand on his chest, seemingly feeling for the beat of his heart. He watched as your eyes roamed over his face, and he swallowed, wondering what the hell you were thinking. 

His mind went back to the earlier events of the day. You’d told him you loved him, and his heart went racing, thoughts whirling before he came to a blank slate. Had you expected a reply—a _coherent_ reply? The words were crestfallen on his tongue, so he said nothing.

But now, he wondered: _What the hell were you thinking?_ The words left his lips differently, quietly. “You love me. Why?”

The question was no challenge. For a moment, he hoped you’d take it as one. But when your gaze met his again, he knew you understood the fact that he _needed_ to know. That he needed to be assured—stupidly and uncharacteristically unlike him. 

But he was a boy of eighteen with hardly a normal upbringing to his name, choosing to skip out on the things any other kid would have to keep himself and his little brother fed. He was only merely associated with delinquency and vague troublemaking. It seemed that was all he would be remembered for.

He was brought back from his thoughts when you ran your free hand up the column of his neck and over his jaw, then his cheeks, before your fingers threaded through his hair. 

A smile adorned your lips. A sweet, kind smile that you always managed to give him, and that he always managed to wonder if he deserved. “Your hair is kinda nice,” you told him softly.

He felt as your hand trailed sideways, tracing the corner of his eye with the tip of your finger. Your voice was focused, genuine, even through the words: “Your eyes are sorta pretty.”

You continued in your ministrations, running your thumb over his cheek and smiling wider when his brows knitted together in minor confusion. A giggle left your lips and the corner of his lips twitched upward at the sound. “Your freckles are cute.”

He laughed at this. Then he ran his hands up your sides, under your top, prodding you to continue.

“And…” You brushed your fingertip over his bottom lip, biting down on your own briefly. “Your lips… Through all your dumb jokes—” He laughed again, stirring a brief chuckle from you. “—Through all your dumb jokes, I still wanna…”

He said nothing.

Instead, he tugged you downward with a hand in your hair, meeting you in a kiss full of smiles and the blossoming feeling in his chest urging him to tell you what he hadn’t said.

**2016**

The night is young. You shift in Sam’s grip on you to hold yourself above him with an arm propped next to his head. He stares up at you in question, but neither of you say a word. Instead, your eyes wander over his face, your fingers tapping against his chest to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He swallows hard and wraps his arms around you tighter—selfishly. 

Because it’s moments like these he still can’t quite comprehend. Through the time it took him to tell you those little three words back, through his unexplained disappearances, through all those lies he’s told you… And yet you always find a way back into his arms.

He knows it’s always your choice. He knows he’s never clawed his way through and forced you back, but he also knows how ruined he would be if you made the right choices and left him. He has never, in his goddamn right, _ever_ deserved you. Even when he was just that orphaned street kid. 

His jaw sets. “You love me,” he says. “Why?”

And it’s no challenge. He has only ever asked you the question in his head since the first time he had all those years ago, and you never respond. Yet it always seems like you could see it anyway, because you’d tell him the three little words again. 

He feels as your hand runs up the column of his neck, over his tattoo, his jaw, cheek, and then your fingers tangle in his hair. You smile down at him and continue in your pattern. Your fingers trace the corner of his eye, and then move downward to brush his bottom lip. 

“Because you’re sweet,” you eventually say, framing his face in your hands and leaning down. He holds you by your waist as you rest your forehead against his. “And brave, and determined, and so much _more_ than what you give yourself credit for, Sam.”

He lets out a breath, shaking his head lightly. “But I don’t…”

You catch his faltering words and smile. “In spite of your mistakes—and, yeah—no matter how pissed off you make me sometimes…” He laughs at this, and you hush him. “…no matter what,” you continue. “It won’t stop me from loving you. Okay?”

He says nothing.

Instead, he tugs you downward with a hand in your hair, meeting you in a kiss. He keeps a firm grip on you as he rolls onto his side. “I love you too,” he tells you when he pulls back. “You know that?”

You smile, raising your brows. “Oh really?” you say through a laugh. “Why?”

He rolls his eyes and burrows his face between your neck and shoulder, smiling into your skin.


End file.
